


You Can Keep Your Hat On

by coveredinfeels



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Crack, Dragon Age Kink Meme, Dubious Consent, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-09
Updated: 2015-03-09
Packaged: 2018-03-17 03:45:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3514148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coveredinfeels/pseuds/coveredinfeels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Cole isn't a desire demon, but thinks it might help if he was.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Can Keep Your Hat On

**Author's Note:**

> Kinkmeme wanted DesireDemon!Cole. I just wanted an excuse to make the Full Monty reference.
> 
> Mostly crack, but also not entirely sure how to tag the consent issues here. Take the fact that canon!Cole does a lot of helping by doing what he thinks people want and potentially also then wiping their memories of him doing it, and extrapolate.

Maybe it's the cold, or maybe it's the looming threat of apocalypse, but there is a lot of cuddling going on at Skyhold. Dorian can't turn around without practically running into a happy couple. Two of the scouts were in _his_ library earlier, definitely _not_ looking at maps of the Hinterlands ('the' library, whatever, technicalities are so boring).

On top of which he gets to watch the Herald batting her eyelashes at Cullen every chance she gets. Metaphorical batting, because he's not sure the dear woman understands the meaning of the word coy; what it actually is some fairly full-on eye-fucking across the war table and Cullen getting all flustered about it which in itself is a fine view. Dorian hadn't realised southern Templars were so-- well, _so_. Let's leave it there, shall we?

He doesn't know why he's feeling bitter about it. Good boys, never Dorian's thing, and the Herald deserves to get something out of this whole mess that doesn't involve trudging across half of Thedas knee deep in demon parts. Maybe it's the way everyone smiles when they take one of their walks around Skyhold, just a little too close together for it to be entirely just about surveying the troops or the walls. Varric keeps taking notes and going on about how it's just too perfect, the mage and the ex-Templar. "Couldn't make this stuff up." he says, grinning, and Dorian murmurs something like "Yes, they're adorable, aren't they?"

They are. It's all so very sweet, and Dorian has no right to feel bitter over things he can never have. He orders another ale instead-- the wine here doesn't bear thinking about-- and watches Krem win money at cards off the rest of the Chargers and use it to buy pretty girls drinks. Bull isn't with them, for once, which means Dorian doesn't have to expend energy on retorts to utterly insincere flattery. Probably off with one of the scullery girls. Again.

He doesn't quite remember leaving the tavern (a faint memory says something like _careful, Altus, don't fall on your pretty face_ ), but at some point he did get to his bed. By himself.

But when he wakes the bed is warm. Dorian's bed is never warm-- not real warm, the cold here gets into everything and he can't in good faith ask for more blankets when some are still sleeping in parts of Skyhold with holes in the walls. It's warm now, though. Dorian is warm. The hand that gentles him when he tries to move is warm-- _hush, Amatus, let me take care of you_ \-- warm and unhurried, lighting fires under Dorian's skin as it goes. Warm breath on the back of his neck.

Was he mistaken? Did he invite someone back for the evening? It wouldn't be the first time he'd let alcohol override judgement, but--

\--but there's not one person in Skyhold who would be inclined to murmur sweet nothings in Tevene at him. Desire demon. Subtle bastard. Dorian twists out of it's grasp and backs up as far as he is able, headboard against his back, gathering power into his hands. One good strike, that's the way to deal with these things.

Then he sees the face of this 'desire demon', and the magic drops away, replaced by a wave of pure guilt. Several members of the Inquisition would have his _head_ (or another major extremity) for taking advantage of Cole. Dorian is half-inclined to let them.

"Was I not doing it right?" Cole peers at him. "You were cold and you wanted to be warm. Like she is when he smiles at her."

"Cole--" Dorian blinks as the scene before him comes into focus. "What are you _wearing_?" Like one of those Antivan dancing boys-- don't think about _him_ , he'll pick _that_ right out of your head-- all gauze and tassels, only that Cole was wearing it along with that blasted hat. Which oddly enough, didn't entirely spoil the effect.

"I knew someone." Cole frowned. "Before I was me. She liked to help, too. This is how she helped."

"And the hat?"

"I like the hat." Cole chewed his lip. "Was I wrong?"

Somebody really needed to have a talk with Cole about these things. And by someone, Dorian meant 'anyone but me'. But the poor boy looked so _expectant_. "No-- not precisely. It was a lovely dream, thank you. But you shouldn't be doing these things with someone you don't love. You understand love, right? Like-- our lovely Inquisitor and her Commander."

"On the war table." Cole responds, immediately. "His tongue trips over the words, but he can say them into her skin. Actions speak louder."

"Riiiight." And there's a mental image he's not going to be able to erase any time soon. "Like that."

"But I _don't_ understand." Cole says, plaintively. "You make the rules different for yourself. It's all backwards."

Oh, they were so not having this discussion. "Well, sometimes I'm a hypocrite. Just-- let me sleep, Cole. By myself." Cole nodded, slowly, and slipped off Dorian's bed, inadvertently giving him his first look at the _back_ of the outfit. What there was of it. " _Festis bei umo canavarum_... and put some clothes on!"

Cole half-turns and gives him an unreadable look from under the brim of the hat. "Inside your head you just want me to take the hat off."

"Yes, well..." Dorian coughs, feeling himself flush. "Look, ask Solas to explain about the birds and the bees." He holds up a hand to ward off the inevitable _but I'm not a bird or..._ "I mean-- he'll be able to explain how-- _these things_ work. With spirits. Because that's his specialty. Okay?"

Cole pauses, and then speaks, very slowly, as if explaining things to a child. "I know about _sex_ , Dorian. People think about it _all the time_. And I'm the wrong shape to help Solas."

"That's not what I--" Dorian manages, before he realises he's speaking to empty air. He groans, and pulls the blankets back over himself.

It's really fucking cold.

* * *

Cole: The Iron Bull. You help people with sex.  
Bull: One way of putting it. If that's what they want, sure. Why do you ask?  
Dorian: ...  
Cole: What if they want, but they don't want to want? Wanting to be wanted but wanting is weakness, wicked-- I just want to help.  
Bull: Just wanting to help won't cut it, kid. You have to really want. The "you're gorgeous and I can't keep my tongue off your skin" sort of want. You know what I mean?  
Dorian: ... I think the Inquisitor requires my assistance.

Bull: Is the 'vint ill? We've been in the Hinterlands for hours and I haven't been called a stinking beast or sworn at in foreign once.  
Cole: He's hard to help.  
Bull: Tell me about it.


End file.
